A Story Retold
by Tie-grr
Summary: There is a more detailed explanation within but this story focuses on V's POV throughout the film on both his feelings for Evey and his Vendetta. It shall turn into a survival fic but with the main story too and is mainly a romance.
1. The Dark Streets of London

_So, I have been going through a massive Hugo Weaving phase and I utterly love that man. But V for Vendetta was the first film of his that I ever saw and was the reason why I initially fell for him. I watched it for three nights straight and finally decided I would like to try my hand at writing something for it. Now, I have never read a comic before, this will be completely based on the movie world. There is also no guarantee as to regular posting because I am a bugger that way, but as I upload this chapter two is already well on it's way to completion. I hope that all who read this have the patience to bear with me._

_Starting from the night they meet, I shall be following V through the story as well as afterwards. Of course, I wish for V to live. Most of it shall be told from V's POV but when it is called for, I shall switch to Evey. I really hope people enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Bear in mind that this one is mainly based off the movie, some will be close to the story given whilst other chapters will be purely me._

_Without further ado, let us begin._

* * *

The night air was pleasantly warm for the fourth of November; he could feel it creeping through the mesh which covered the eyes and small gap in the mouth of his mask. It was this slight breeze that combined with the speed of his stride to whip his cape up behind him with each step he took. He travelled through the streets of London making no sound other than the occasional echo of his booted foot landing on the pavement. When he wanted to, which was on most occasions, the masked man could be so light on his feet that he would make no sound at all. But tonight he was more interested in getting to his destination than going unnoticed. A few fingermen would be no match for his superhuman strength and agility.

It was sometime past eleven and he still had some distance to travel. He had left early to make sure he was definitely in place to watch his grand spectacle at the stroke of midnight, a whole array of unforeseen circumstances could get in his way. Little did he know that fate was planning a little trick on him, a trick that would change the course of his life for his remaining days. All it took was a scream in the dark.

He could hear the commotion long before he saw it; he wasn't sure it was just curiosity that caused him to follow the sound. He paused just before an archway and took a peek around the corner. He counted three fingermen surrounding what looked to be a young woman. She seemed to be threatening them with pepper spray but it flew from her hand when she was grabbed from behind, a rod held up against her throat to keep her in place. As if he didn't know their objective already it was confirmed for him when the apparent leader of the group unzipped his trousers. This action was accompanied by a comment from the skinniest man.

"Spare the rod, spoil the child."

If he did nothing now this girl would end up being raped and even though it did not fit in with his plans he could not allow that to happen. Drawing his cape closed around his body he stepped out into the middle of the arch.

"The multiplying villainies of nature do swarm upon him."

"Bugger off!" The moustached leader had turned just long enough to shout at him. In response the masked man pulled a knife from the six attached about his waist, the steel shining in the light of the alleyway.

"He has a knife!" The skinnier man hissed.

"Disdaining fortune with his brandished steel, which smoked with bloody execution." These halfwits seemed to struggle with such words. The leader zipped up his trousers and finally turned to face him, flipping open his badge.

"Back off mate, we're fingermen."

Oh, he knew who they were, a formal warning made no difference. With a swift slash of the blade the lower half of the badge dropped to the ground. The look of confusion and shock on the man's face amused him but instead of allowing him to react he turned the blade so his hilt was directed towards the fingerman. Using the hilt of the blade he punched the fingerman so hard he went flying into the wall behind, slumping into a motionless heap on the ground. That was almost too easy.

The second fingerman tried to pull his gun but the masked man was far too fast, hooking his knife through the gun and pulling harshly. The action sent the gun scuttling across the ground towards the archway from which he had just come. The look on this one's face was priceless so instead of just dealing with him he decided to have some fun. He slit the top of the man's trousers open and the grimy man whimpered.

"Oh.." He was greeted with equally grimy tighty whities.

Another move as fast as the speed of light had his knife hooked around the back of his neck, with a sharp tug he was on the ground with a heavy thud. It was at this point that the third and final man threw the girl aside and charged at him with the rod. He parried two blows before disarming him with ease, pressing the tip of his knife against his chest. "Aha!"

In another astounding feat he sheathed his knife, grabbed the fingerman by his throat and slammed him bodily into the wall to his right. He dropped the motionless body to return to the crawling man whose trousers were still around his ankles. He was crying and scrambling towards the gun so on his approach the masked man picked up the discarded rod. He stopped the fingerman with one boot on his trousers, the coward turned up to face him, begging for his life.

"We are oft to blame in this, 'Tis too much proved, that with devotion's visage and pious action we do sugar o'er the devil himself."

"What does that mean?"

He smirked behind the mask, he was taking a sick satisfaction from teaching these fingermen a lesson. He raised the rod high above his head and spoke firmly.

"Spare the rod." One sickening crunch ended it all and he dropped the rod to turn to the young woman.

Now that he had the chance to finally look at her he could see the beauty of the girl whom the men had cornered. Well, she wasn't a girl, a young woman that had initially taken his breath away. Simply laying his eyes on her had stirred something deep within him that he had not felt in a long time.

Of course he was able to appreciate the beauty of the women he saw in his day to day life, they were usually on screen or an image formulated in his mind from reading books. But this woman was different. She had captivated him so much that he realised he was just staring. When he took a step forwards she scrambled to pick up her pepper spray.

"I can assure you I mean you no harm." The woman was pressed against the wall behind her, looking at him with all the fear he expected.

"Who are you?" A slight smile curled his lips at her question and he inclined his head.

"Who?" He questioned softly. "Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am in a man in a mask."

"Oh, I can see that."

"Of course you can. I am not questioning your powers observation, merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man _who _he is."

"Oh, right." For a moment he was worried that his words had confused her but she seemed bright, far more intelligent than those idiots who had tried to attack her. He attempted to answer her question in his own way.

"But on this most auspicious of nights permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet to suggest the character of this dramatis persona." He lowered his head then suddenly spread his arms wide.

"Viola! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition." He had been acting throughout his entire speech but now he could feel his passion getting the better of him. He drew a knife and slashed two long lines through the poster on the wall.

_Strength through unity, unity through faith._

The lines formed the letter V and he once more sheathed his knife, taking a moment to breath and calm. When he spoke again it was soft. "The only verdict is vengeance, a vendetta held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such…shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous."

A slightly manic laughter took over him and he clasped his hands before his mask. A glance at her small figure made him realise that he may be frightening her, he had let himself get lost in his excitement.

"Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose. So let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me.." He removed his hat and bowed like the gentleman he was, the hat clutched to his chest. "V."

"Are you like a crazy person?" He should have expected such an observation but in truth it just made him smile. Which was of course missed behind the giant fixed grin of his Fawkesian mask.

"I am quite sure they will say so." He replaced his hat upon his wig. "But to whom, might I ask, am I speaking?"

"I'm Evey."

He didn't know how to describe how that name affected him but it struck him right to his very core. She was so close to him; it didn't matter to him that it was just a name. To him it was a sign. Of what he was not yet sure but he knew that he had to offer her this option. But first he had such an urge to say her name aloud.

"Evey.. E-vey. Of course you are."

"What does that mean?" He caught confusion in her eyes and tilted his head slightly.

"It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence." He extended his hand to her. "Are you hurt?"

He could see her eyeing his hand before she took it. Her fingers spread warmth through the leather of his gloves and into his own fingers, scarred as they were. She gripped them tight and he pulled her to her feet. "No, I'm fine. Thanks to you."

"Oh, I merely played my part. But tell me, do you enjoy music Evey?"

"I suppose." He could see how uncertain she was but so far she had chosen to trust him at every step.

"You see, I'm a musician of sorts and on my way to give a very special performance."

"What kind of musician?"

"Percussion instruments are my speciality but tonight I intend to call upon the entire orchestra for this particular event and would be most honoured if you could join me." He found himself holding his breath in anticipation for her answer.

"I don't think so; I think I should be getting home."

"I promise you it will be nothing like you have ever seen and afterwards you'll return home safely." This was the ultimate test of her trust in him. Would she choose to come with him or stick with her word and return home? It didn't even cross his mind that she might have been heading to a prior engagement when the fingermen cornered her.

"All right."

Such a little acknowledgement had his mood lifted to dizzying heights. This night would prove to be far more enjoyable than he could ever have considered. He had long ago picked out a rooftop from where he could get the best view of this evening's activity and it wasn't too far away. The only difference was that he would now have a companion on that roof; he just hoped that she would enjoy the show.

The pair walked side by side in a comfortable silence, Evey was just a step behind as he led the way. She never once questioned where this show was to take place and why it was beginning so late. In fact, she had not questioned anything. She just followed him. He could feel her trust in every step they took together – she quite literally had enough faith in him to blindly follow him. But he would not lead her wrong.

He stopped at an empty building and opened the door for her. She hesitated a step before entering no doubt fearing there was someone or something harmful inside. But such fear was short lived when he took charge once more, leading the way up several flights of stairs until they finally reached the roof. From here they had a spectacular view of the city around them but as she admired their surroundings he snuck a glance at her. The light breeze was ruffling her hair but she hadn't seemed to notice.

"It's beautiful up here."

"The more perfect stage could not be asked for." He finally turned to look out over the cityscape.

"I don't see any instruments." Once again he smiled under his mask.

"Your powers of observation continue to serve you well. But wait." He drew a conductor's baton from under his cloak and gestured to the Old Bailey before them. "It is to Madam Justice that I dedicate this concerto. In honour of the holiday she seems to have taken from these parts. And in recognition of the imposter that stands in her stead. Tell me, do you know what day it is Evey?"

"Umm, November the fourth."

As if on cue the chimes of midnight rang out behind them, echoing over London. "Not any more. Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot."

He tapped the baton against a pipe beside him and a pleasantly light chime sounded. He started to move the baton as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra. He started to sway ever so slightly from side to side at the music that was playing in his head – the music about to sound throughout the darkness.

"First the overture. Yes, yes, the strings. Listen carefully, do you hear it?" He moved closer to the wall as he continued to conduct his orchestra. "The brass."

"I can hear it!" She gasped behind him and before he knew it she had rushed past him and was leaning over the wall to look down into the street. People were moving into the streets as Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture played over the speakers which had previously been spouting nonsense about the curfew. "How do you do that?"

"Wait, here comes the crescendo!" Now this was going to be a surprise for her. As soon as the music changed the statue atop the Old Bailey exploded in a shower of fireworks. His excitement started to get the better of him as he broke out in peels of uncontrollable laughter. "So beautiful is it not?"

The red fireworks shot up to form a 'V' in the air whilst one more firework exploded to form a circle around the letter. The fireworks lasted for several minutes but eventually it died down, as did the music. When all was calm he lowered his arms and stowed the baton back under his cloak. She was looking at him.

"Is something bothering you, Evey?"

"Bothering me? You just blew up the Old Bailey! I.."

"You what?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "Did you not enjoy my performance?"

"That isn't the point! You can't just blow up a building!" Despite her protestations she had yet to flee, yet to try and alert the authorities.

"I believe I can, for I just did. Now there is the matter of a promise I made. To get you home safely. Would you allow me the honour of escorting you home?" He extended his hand and she observed it for a moment.

"I think I can manage alone, thank you."

He inclined his head and withdrew the offered hand. "Very well. I wish you all the best, Evey, and be safe." He took the hat from his head and bowed politely once more.

"Goodnight V." She walked back down the stairs they had used to access the roof and he watched her move through the street below, leaning his weight over the brick wall.

He looked down at the people who had gathered below but only for a brief moment, he had to get away, back to his shadow gallery to prepare for the next stage of his plans. He swept down to ground level and moved through the streets like a ghost – unseen by all. But he could not get her out of his head, her name off his tongue.

"E-vey.."


	2. Haunted Dreams

_So, today is the wonderful Hugo Weaving's 53rd birthday and to celebrate it in my own little way I present you with chapter two :)_

_Thanks to _**theweezil**,** firefly **_and_ **oit **_for your reviews. _

* * *

Hands were moving towards his mask and his breath hitched in his throat. Could he go through with this, could he allow her to remove the mask from his face and let her see what he actually looked like beneath? Nobody had seen his flesh, his scarred and damaged body. His mask was like a security blanket behind which he could hide from the entire world. Her dainty fingers moved to the leather ties which held the mask in place and despite the fact his hands rested on her wrists he made no move to halt her. His breathing was heavy in anticipation at her reaction. And how would she react? He was shocked at his own ability to allow this to occur – was he in his right mind?

The leather ties released and he heard a soft gasp. He suddenly realised the sound had come from his own lips. Her fingers grasped the edges of the mask and he could feel the final barrier being pulled away. She would see him, see the burns, she would see what nobody else had seen! His eyes were closed when the cool air hit his face but he heard no reaction, felt no touch. He opened his eyes, confusion etched into his features.

The sight that greeted him was no more than the ceiling of his bedroom. He sat up and looked around the room but found no sign of any other person. Had it been a dream? He sighed heavily and ran his hands over his face. Never before had he experienced such a vivid dream that was anything other than a nightmare. Or this could also be a nightmare; it was so difficult to tell the difference. He forced himself from the bed and less than gracefully trudged into the en-suite, not bothering with light. The action was just as unlike him as the dream was.

The water was cool against his face and suitably refreshing as it splashed over his marred skin. He was unused to such things taking all of his attention, controlling every thought. Evey hadn't left his mind since they had parted ways and now she had taken to haunting his dreams. But to say his dream was strange would be the understatement of the century. He had quite literally met the girl just a few hours previously and now she dominated everything about him, what was this doing to him?

An hour or so after returning to the shadow gallery he had retired to his bed and fallen asleep shortly after, only to dream of Evey. But the problem was the content of his dream, not the fact he had dreamt of her. Nobody had ever seen what lay beneath his mask and it would take an insane amount of time and effort for him to even consider taking it off for anybody. So why was he dreaming of this stranger being the one to charm it off him? And what worried him was that he didn't seem to mind the removal. Such thoughts were troubling and once he lifted his head he could see the worry reflected in the blue eyes that stared back at him from the mirror.

"Oh, you can't help that, said the cat; we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." He sighed and covered his face with both hands. Now was not a time to be losing it, not when such an integral piece of his plan hinged on his actions in a few hours time.

Evey would prove to be a distraction if he allowed her to continue playing on his mind; he had to get his mind back on the task at hand. His revolution would begin this very day and it would take all of his concentration to ensure everything went to plan. Retreating from his bathroom he finally turned on the lamps that surrounded his vanity. Usually he would turn on the television to see what rubbish the media were spouting for the day but he purposely left the set in darkness – he already knew the headline. Everything would be about the explosion of the Old Bailey and as much as he would love to revel in the chaos he had caused it would only lead to him dwelling on more thoughts of Evey.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, remembering how long it had taken him to even gather the courage to look at his face after the fire. He couldn't escape looking at places like his hands and the majority of his body but his face had been a whole other matter. Truth be told, he could not remember any face other than the pink and white mass of scars that stared back at him. All that remained that was mercifully untouched were his brilliant blue eyes. Perhaps he still had one redeeming feature?

The time for contemplating was over, he had to dress and get moving. The time for action had begun.

The plan had gone without a hitch, he could not have asked for a smoother morning. At least, that was what he thought. He had just flipped his cloak over his shoulder and was reaching out to press the button to call the elevator when he heard it – a gun being cocked. Everything had gone so well, the kerosene fog had hidden his 'clones' long enough for him to escape separately with the gagged guard. He had crashed into one of the guards and went barrelling to the floor, sobbing and exclaiming that the masked man was actually the guard who remained standing. The act had given him enough time to straighten and draw his knives. Four guards had been no match for him and now one lone gunman had him.

"Freeze! Get your hands on your head. Do it now or I'll shoot." Well, there was little choice in that statement. Lifting his hands to his head, V slowly turned to face his captor.

"I must say that I am rather astonished by the response time of London's finest. I hadn't expected you to be quite so Johnny-on-the-spot."

He was very thankful for his mask for it hid the surprise on his face at seeing none other than Evey lurking just behind the policeman. He had no time to dwell on why she might be here but he was very glad that she was. It wouldn't be too difficult to take the policeman down but with a gun pointed directly at him the likelihood of him doing so without taking a bullet was very low. Even with his improved healing a bullet still caused a fair bit of both pain and damage so avoiding them was always a good idea. If Evey was willing to help him he could escape unharmed.

"We were here before you even got started. Bad luck, chummy." The policeman seemed so sure of himself; V couldn't help the smirk that formed under the mask.

"Oh, I don't know about that."

As he had hoped, Evey had every intention of helping him. She tapped on the policeman's shoulder and the moment he turned she sprayed him with pepper spray, the same canister she had gone for the previous night when he had approached her. He wasn't expecting the man to belt her across the face with his gun and quickly leapt into action. One swift punch to the gut followed by one to the head had the man on the floor – unconscious. Just a few feet away lay Evey in a similar state and when his eyes fell on her he felt torn.

By his estimation there had to be 90 seconds or less on the timer of his explosives, the building would be evacuated by now. He needed to get out of there but he could not leave Evey to be found by the police or worse, by Creedy. He stepped over the unconscious man and cast a quick glance at the camera in the corner. Seems it was all on camera but there was little he could do about that now. He stopped by Evey's side and looked down at her, the mental argument still raging in his head. His head told him to leave her there, that she was not his problem even though she had risked herself to help him. His heart, on the other hand, was telling him to take her with him. She would be safe in the Shadow Gallery even though she may not like being trapped. Still, being trapped with him had to be better than being captured by Creedy.

His heart won out and he gently rolled her onto her back. He made sure to grab her bag before slipping on arm under her knees and the other under her back. Her limp body fell against his chest and it honestly felt as though she were dead, were it not for her soft breathing. This time he succeeded in calling the elevator to the floor and used as many back roads as possible to return to the Shadow Gallery.

It had been difficult to carry her through the streets of London without anybody seeing them but he knew the roads less travelled like the back of his hand. Once inside he had taken her to the spare room and placed her atop the covers. He carefully balanced her bag on a pile of books beside the pillow. For a long while he just stared at her, a flurry of thoughts flittering in and out of his mind so fast that half of them were not even comprehensible. This gradually frustrated him to the point where he left her alone to sleep off the nasty blow, retreating into the dark recesses of his home.


	3. A Killer's Playtime

_I was having a really crappy day and I have to thank Anamin for brightening it up. When your review came through it made my entire day better so thank you so much. I hope you enjoy many many more Hugo Weaving films in the near future. And thank you to everybody else who reviewed, followed or favourited. Even just read it, it means a lot._

* * *

For twenty years he had lived in his self imposed confinement, only crossing paths with people when he need demanded or when he was reclaiming items from the government for safekeeping. But the point was that he was used to being on his own. The shadow gallery was his domain where he could indulge in his favourite activities as well as work on his grand plan. He wasn't used to sharing with somebody else, especially somebody whom he was technically holding here against her will and had initially reacted badly to the news that she had to stay here. He had to admit that her anger had been more than understandable given the circumstances. He had tried to make her as comfortable as possible and in the last few days things seemed to be going well.

In truth he had not lost all that much of his privacy. They didn't spend very much time together for she was usually holed up in her room. He had noticed that she had begun to sift through the hundreds, if not thousands of books in the room, he had counted three different books since she'd arrived. The few times she did come out of her room that wasn't for a meal she would usually pick a song on the jukebox and wander around, looking at his many treasures. She had taken a liking to his favourite song and almost every other time she played a song it would be the smokey tones of Julie London that came to greet his ears. But it was not his favourite song that took his fancy this morning. No, instead he strolled up to the television and put on his favourite film - 'The Count of Monte Cristo'.

For quite a long time he did just watch it, settled on the sofa, but he found his excitement too great. Minutes before the fight between Dantes and Mondego he was already up and had retrieved a sword from the numerous weapons that littered the walls. He watched from behind the sofa, eagerly awaiting the fight to begin. His opponent stood ready just behind him, a suit of armour positioned for the first blow. He let out a small noise of excitement and leapt into action, pointing his sword at the suit of armour.

He wasn't even the slightest bit bothered that the suit could not defend itself; he had far too much fun playing with it to care. He was completely unaware of how loud the metallic clash of sword against armour actually was. After all, he wasn't used to having company who slept in later than him. He stalked around his opponent, sword slashing from side to side. Another slash, this time across the armour's back. He laughed and pointed the tip of the sword to what would have been its throat.

"Aha! My fat metal friend!" He lunged forwards and pulled the arm of the armour up to grab at his own throat, sending the suit's sword clattering across the floor. He struggled for a moment before he was forced away, backing into something solid. He didn't know what it was, nor did he care, his attacker was upon him but with one firm boot to the chest he was free again.

He sprung to his feet and swung his sword with a laugh. "Ah! Mondego!"

He spun around, sword following, and with a little flourish decapitated the suit of armour. He watched the helmet soar through the air with a shout of triumph, straight into Evey's feet.

"Oh! I.. Oh God." He cleared his throat, hung his head and lowered the sword. With his left hand he smoothed down the front of his sleeveless doublet. "I.. Uh.. I hope I didn't wake you?"

"No, I just thought you were fighting." Her eyes flickered down to his sword. "I mean, for real."

"My favourite film – 'The Count of Monte Cristo'." He did a little flourish with the sword and pointed it at the television. "With Robert Donat as Edmond Dantes."

The film had taken her attention as she moved closer to the screen. The final part of the scene played out and he smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Oh, it gets me every time."

She was looking back at him now and he could see the interest in her eyes. "Never seen it."

"Really?" He was slightly surprised. "Would you like to?"

"Does it have a happy ending?"

"As only celluloid can deliver." He knew his passion for the film was obvious and he only hoped she liked the film as much as he did.

"Okay." He felt his heart skip a beat at her acceptance. "Put the sword away."

She moved to sit on the sofa but he was momentarily frozen, her gentle scolding had sounded amused. And not only that, she had agreed to watch the film with him. His heart was racing in his chest as he put the sword away and retrieved the remote. Was this not what people did on dates? Watch movies together? He scolded himself quickly. Friends also did this. But did that make them friends? He felt that familiar aching which grew in the back of his head whenever he tried to think too much about Evey. She captivated every single one of his thoughts whilst she was near and almost as many whilst she was not. She utterly bewitched him.

She looked at him expectantly and he realised she was already settled into the centre of the sofa. She had been waiting patiently for him to start the movie from the beginning and he had just been standing there like a fool.

"My apologies." He pressed a couple of buttons on the remote and the film started from the opening credits once again. He settled into one end of the sofa, she was incredibly close to him but her position meant he couldn't escape it. Mercifully the film distracted him.

* * *

"_Can we come up?"_

"You find your own tree." He echoed Edmond Dantes on the screen, unable to help himself.

The scene ended and 'The End' appeared on the screen but he had already turned to Evey. They had barely moved from their positions on the sofa throughout the entire movie and he could see tears in her eyes. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah.. But it made me feel sorry for Mercedes.."

He tilted his head slightly to the side. "Why?"

"He cared more about revenge than he did about her." In that moment he had no idea just how much those words would come to haunt his every move.

The DVD abruptly ended and the news flickered on. Before he could lift the remote and turn it off the headlines were already read and Evey had stopped him. She watched the programme intently and he knew that she was upset at him. Eventually he turned the television off and lowered the remote to his lap.

"Are you going to kill more people?"

He could have lied but what good would that have done? He had made a point to never lie to her and had already admitted that he had not only taken her ID badge but also murdered Lewis Prothero. The truth was truly the best way to go about things not many how many steps backwards it took them. If they were to ever have any form of functioning relationship in the coming year she would have to know him for who and what he was.

"Yes."

He could see the effect that that one small word had on her and not for the first time she simply walked out on him. He stared at the wall for a long while after she had gone and he had heard the sound of her door closing. With time he hoped she would calm down for he had so enjoyed their time together. Already he wished for more but with a resigned sigh he rose from the sofa to return the suit of armour to its original home. Give her time.. Give her time.

* * *

_As you can see, I am not going to bore you lot with every scene from the film and every single line from the film. The next chapter shall be of my own creating and we shall then move on once more with the film. Thank you to all of those who have read and reviewed so far, it means a lot to me._

_And I forgot to mention in the last chapter, the quote I used was, of course, from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. _


	4. A Tender Touch

_Thank you again to everybody who has read this story and continues to read it, it means a lot to me. And those who review, I love you so much! I do love reviews :)_

* * *

The static face of the training dummy was a far from accurate representation of the beating that the torso below was taking. Red, scarred hands pummelled the solid foam body with inhuman speed and force, the punches only broken up by the occasional blow from an elbow. With an abrupt shout his fist collided with the dummy with so much force that he loosened the bolts which anchored the base to the stone floor. He stood stock still for a moment; his breathing was barely even heightened.

He was trying to work out his frustrations but so far all he had managed to do was damage his dummy to a degree. He lowered his hands to his side and let out a frustrated sigh. He was beginning to think it was utterly hopeless, that nothing would be able to distract him. His attraction to her was beginning to get in the way of his plans and as much as he wanted to hate her for that there was no way on this planet that he could. He could never hate Evey.

In fact, her influence on his life was not just distracting. His growing interest in her was giving him a new form of motivation. Before, all he had cared about was revenge and trying to fix this country using his revolution. But the revolution was rapidly growing in import because of her. His revolution would result in a better world for Evey, one where she would no longer need to live her life in such fear. If he could manage that then he could die a happy man.

Each morning she would come out for her breakfast and then they would spend the day together. Whether it was watching movies, talking or even sitting in silence reading books, they would be together. She had even taken to secretly watching him duel the suit of armour. She would hide out of sight but he always knew that she was there.

She would always be at a disadvantage because he could hear the movement of her feet on the stone; it came from years of living alone in this large empty space. Not only could he hear her but he could swear that he could feel her eyes following his every move. Even when he was doing day to day things he found that she would watch him with almost as much interest as she looked at the gallery.

At first he worried that she viewed him like he was one of the performers in a freak show only there for people's amusement. But he quickly pushed away that thought. She didn't look at him that way; it was far more reminiscent of the interest which he had in her. And that was a terrifying thought.

He knocked the dummy back into place and made a mental note to repair the base before trying to hit it again. It would not do if he barrelled over the dummy and crashed face first into its expressionless face. He gave the torso a small shove as he passed it, he would practise his aim with his throwing knives. Well, it wasn't practice he was after – he needed to get out his frustration. And physical exercise should have worked, but was so far failing him quite miserably.

Evey was still on his mind and she was the reason he was still awake at nearly four in the morning. He would usually be asleep now but rather vivid dreams had been keeping him in rather an excited state. He thought that perhaps hitting something would calm him down but was now beginning to consider a cold shower. He picked up a couple of knives and checked that they were sharp. Surely throwing things would help?

He aimed at the target across the room and threw the knife, only for his mind to conjure up a memory to distract him.

_The knife soared through the air and buried itself in the guard's chest, its twin quickly doing the same. The remaining three guards were easily dispatched and he briskly made his way towards the elevator. A policeman had hindered his escape but Evey had come to his rescue. _**Evey.**

A few curse words escaped his lips as the knife fell rather pathetically from his hand, just about biting into the straw target. Barely an inch had actually made it into the material and he crossed the distance to retrieve the knife. He reached out to take the knife when a sound distracted him, causing his bare hand to wrap around the blade instead of the handle.

A clatter caused his head to turn and he saw Evey sheepishly trying to catch the sword she had knocked from its stand. He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he hadn't heard her approach and now that she was standing there he was distracted again. Only this time it was from removing the knife properly. In his shock at seeing her he tried to hide his hands but only managed to slice his hand open on the knife's blade.

He hissed in both shock and pain, clutching his hand in front of him. Blood dripped to the floor when he clenched his hand into a fist to try and stop the bleeding.

"V!" She gasped, abandoning the sword to come straight to his side. "You hurt yourself! I am sorry."

"It does not hurt much, I promise it is fine." He wanted to hide from her but that thought flew right out the window when her small hand touched his.

She gently opened his hand to examine the slice wound that was still bleeding, although somewhat slower than before. Although he should have been paying attention to the wound on his hand he was far more interested in the woman before him.

She was so close to him that he could smell her shampoo, the one he had retrieved for her just a few days previously. It smelled of flowers, the exact species he could not pinpoint, but he was far from truly caring. He also noticed how her soft curls fell around her face, even when her hair was tousled from her bed. It looked so soft to touch, he could just reach out a tiny bit and feel if those curls really were as soft as they looked.. He shook himself out of it, earning a slightly confused look from his companion.

"Please, at least let me tend to it."

"Evey, I-" He tried to protest and pull his hand away but she would not give. She would not release his hand.

"V." She said firmly, her dark eyes looking up into his mask. "Where is your first aid kit?"

He let out a resigned sigh and gestured for her to follow him. He had far more than just a first aid kit but he did not need to tell her about that now. He hadn't even thought to ask her what she was doing up at such a late hour. He just led her through the dark shadow gallery towards the kitchen. He had a first aid kit stored in most rooms but a lot of them he doubted she had ever been in.

"In that cupboard." He pointed to the correct door with his free hand.

"Right, sit down."

She all but forced him to sit when he was about to complain, it was almost as if she knew he had opened his mouth even behind the mask. Her small hands reached up to his shoulders and pushed him into a chair. He could still feel the warmth of her hands through his thick doublet. He was glad he had decided to put the sleeveless doublet on over his loose shirt when he finally rolled out of bed. Not only did it give him more cover of the burned flesh at his throat but it made him feel more comfortable around her, more covered.

She retrieved the kit from the cupboard and laid it out on the table, pulling out everything she would need. She then placed a bowl of warm water beside the open box. "Give me your hand."

He did as requested and offered her his injured hand, palm up. Usually he would never even dream of doing such a thing but she was so determined to help him that the thought of hiding his marred hands had completely slipped his mind. It was actually quite terrifying to think that she could change the very way he was just by being there.

Her hands were so soft as they touched his rough, scarred skin. He had never felt something so soft beneath his fingers before. Or, on top of his fingers as it were. Her finger ran across his hand, following the line of the wound that sliced into his palm. As it turned out there were two wounds, one from either side of the blade. The first just caught the top of his palm whilst the other was across his fingers only. The wound on his palm was the worst, far deeper than the cuts to his fingers. So she started with that one first.

"Did I wake you?" He finally found his voice but it was soft, quiet.

"No.. No, I couldn't sleep."

She was concentrating on her work, cleaning the blood from his hand so she could have a better look at the deep cut. Her small fingers hesitantly pushed the flesh back together no doubt judging if it would need stitches.

"What is the diagnosis, doctor?" He smiled beneath his mask.

"I don't think you'll need stitches so I shall just bandage it up."

She wrapped the bandage securely around his palm and neatly tucked the edge under one of the wraps. He couldn't help but admire her handiwork as she started to individually clean and bandage his fingers.

"Where did you learn first aid?"

"You learn how to take care of yourself fast when you're on your own."

He frowned but made no comment. If she wished to tell him of the experience then he would wait for her to do so in her own time. The pair fell into a comfortable silence whilst she finished caring for him. When she had finished he noticed she didn't release his hand. In fact, she was looking at his hand intently. He nearly gasped when her finger slowly ran over his palm, just below the spot where the bandage ended.

"I thought it would feel rougher.." Her voice was so quiet that for a moment he wasn't even sure the words were not just a figment of his imagination. "Even though they're scarred.. They feel so soft."

Her gaze was firmly fixed on his hands and he was rather glad she did not seek to meet his own. Even though she would be unable to see his eyes he feared what he would see in hers. His arm was becoming twitchy, nobody had ever had the chance to see his burned skin let alone examine it in such close quarters. And just the fact that it was Evey who was touching him made things ten times worse. The instinct to hide was kicking in. However, she didn't seem to notice.

His mind was racing with questions. How could she stand to touch him? Look at him? Why did she want to touch his skin? How long had she wanted to touch it for? What on earth was he going to do about these growing feelings he had for her? He expected the aching to return to his head but nothing came, to his immense surprise.

"I am sorry that I distracted you. I never meant to, I just didn't see the-"

"It's all right, Evey."

"But you hurt yourself."

"I promise you, I shall be fine." His hand would probably be fully healed within a day but he had actually enjoyed having her take care of him.

"I was surprised to find you up.." Her fingers no longer moved on his hand, but stayed stationary.

"I couldn't sleep.." He mirrored her answer with a slight smile. He doubted he would sleep at all that night.

"Seems to be going round tonight."

She finally moved her hand from his to cover her mouth as a yawn took over her. "You should head back to bed, Evey, my hand has been taken care of brilliantly. Thank you."

She looked right at him and flashed him a brilliant smile. "You're welcome. Goodnight, V, sleep well."

Her hand lightly brushed against his shoulder when she passed him but he felt the touch. It sent all sorts of shivers down his spine. He did not move from the chair until he was confident she had retired to bed, the sound of her door closing reaching his ears. He stood up and started to pack away the first aid box but his eyes drifted to the bandage wrapped around his hand. She had taken such care of him. His heart fluttered at just the memory of her hand touching his. Maybe there would be more opportunities for such contact in the future? At least, he hoped so.


	5. Did I mention I'm Betrayed?

V crouched low to the rooftops as he moved across them, he didn't have that long but he would rather take the precaution and be slow but undetected. He may have been dressed in all black but the mask that shielded the world from his marred features could shine as bright as the sun if caught correctly with a bright light. Lilliman's transfer had forced him to speed up his plans, so he was not as comfortable with this plan as he would have liked but, more importantly, if he had to flee for any reason it would leave Evey in that lecherous fiend's grubby, groping grasp. He knew that she could take care of herself but he could never be sure how the Bishop would react to her rejection of his advances. She would supply him with time but, of course, he could only expect her to go so far for him.

Even though she had offered her assistance to him he had loathed actually asking her. The man was a pervert who enjoyed taking poor young girls to his bed. Evey was too old for his tastes but V had been sure she could look the age required. Outfit perfected; he had sent her right into his hands. Just the thought that bastard would have his hands on her, in any way, was enough to make V's blood boil in his veins. That man did not deserve to touch his Evey.

Did he really just call her that? His Evey?

How long had he been viewing her as his? She was hardly his property and neither was she his lover, no matter how much he wished that the latter were true. He must not allow himself to think of her like that again, it was bad enough that he fantasised about her the way he already did. If she knew she would probably find some way to escape from him and he could not blame her. Who would want their captor dreaming so vividly of them? Caring so strongly for them?

The best way to stop the boiling in his veins was to make sure that Bishop Lilliman never touched another person ever again.

The plan had been rather simple. Evey would go in and pretend to be there to 'service' the Bishop. He'd viewed the girls being led to a private room to change on several previous occasions and had managed to locate the window of the same room from the outside. Her instructions were to leave the window open and buy V enough time to get in. The rest was down to him.

Previous reconnaissance of the beautiful old building had produced a few problems for his plan. The window he needed to reach was near the level of the roof and there were no clear methods of scaling the building undetected. Several hours he had spent circling the building in an attempt to find a remedy to his predicament. He had been close to just attempting to scale the facade and risk detection when some scaffolding was erected on the opposite face. It seemed Lady Luck was smiling upon his endeavours. The scaffolding, no doubt erected to perform structural inspections, would get him three quarters of the way to the roof. All that was left for him to do was to clamber up the last few feet to the slates.

And here he crouched, judging his surroundings before he dared to move. He leapt from the peak of the roof and landed lightly on the edge. The masked man allowed his weight to slide over the edge and he effortlessly caught a hand hold. A further small drop a few feet down and he successfully caught the window ledge, also missing the open window that allowed his entry. He hauled his bulk through the small opening and briefly pondered the possibility that he may have underestimated how large he was. With a recovered grace (it had been surprisingly difficult to get through that small window without falling through it) he strode through the small room and into the hallway.

Even if he was unable to recall the direction in which he needed to travel there was no way he could miss the room. He could hear the Bishop shouting although the words were muffled through the wooden door that easily surrendered under his unnatural strength.

The wooden door splintered and he strode in, nodding his head at his victim. "Reverend." Evey was standing to the side and looked almost guilty?

"My God.." The panicked man gasped. "She wasn't lying!"

Confusion clouded V for a moment and he looked over to Evey. Now he understood the guilt. Had she betrayed him? Lilliman continued. "It is you."

"I'm sorry, I had to."

"Evey?!" Before he even knew what was happening she had fled from the room at a high speed, disappearing from the situation and from his life. In that moment, her betrayal hurt him even more than the raging fires that had burned his flesh.

That was it, she had betrayed him. He had placed his faith in her – he had trusted her! And now she had thrown it right back in his face and fled.

So many thoughts were racing through his head that when he turned back to face his prey he was confronted with a gun. His lightning fast reflexes let him down in his moment of distraction and he very nearly failed to dodge the bullet. He grabbed him by the wrist and twisted his arm viciously, the weapon falling forgotten to the floor with a dull thud.

The V that was holding onto Bishop Lilliman was a new one, even to the man himself, fuelled by similar motives but he could feel a pain deep in his heart. This pain very nearly forced him to slice the man's throat then and there. It was only his long practised patience that finally stayed his hand and put him back on plan. His words were dripping with venom.

"Thus I clothe my naked villainy with odd old ends stolen forth of holy writ, and seem a saint, when most I play the devil." He recalled the quote from Richard III as he had originally planned.

"Please, have mercy!"

The man was on his knees, crying and begging for his life. It both sickened and pleased him. He would take more joy in this kill that he could ever have imagined before Evey's betrayal.

"Oh, not tonight, Bishop." He ground out, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

"No, no, please, I beg you!"

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

"I don't want to die!"

The moment the gunshot had sounded, V knew that he was on a time limit. Either somebody would report the sound or the ear would have heard it and be scrambling to get backup. Lilliman's death was quick and once the man had fallen, V took his time in placing the scarlet carson on his chest before leaving. He fled through the same window he had entered and swiftly dropped straight to ground level.

Rage was pumping through his veins, making it difficult for him to concentrate on hiding in the shadows, but another issue was cropping up in the back of his mind. Worry over Evey was starting to calm his rage and he found his feet carrying him in a different direction. He had been heading back to the Shadow Gallery but he had to make sure she was all right and he had a fair idea of where she would go.

Not long after he had taken her captive he had made a point of locating some possible places she may hide if she were ever to escape him. He'd found that she didn't have very many friends and that the only people she really came in contact were those that she worked with. It saddened him to know that she had few friends, surely a beautiful vibrant young woman would have all the friends she could ever want? It was the cumulative of these circumstances that led him to the home of one Gordon Dietrich.

He lurked in the shadows across the road and observed Evey running up to the front door. The man who answered the door looked around for any signs of life but V was sure he was out of sight. But Mr Dietrich only got a second of his attention; his eyes were glued to Evey's back until she ultimately disappeared into the large house.

At the very least, she would be safe with this man. And, no doubt, far happier than she ever was in his company. A small voice in the back of his head tormented him ruthlessly on the journey back, and continued to do so even once inside his home.

The gallery seemed so empty without her there, just her presence made such a difference. Even turning on the jukebox didn't fill the emptiness. The pain of her betrayal was still raw and he retired to his training room to work off some steam. What would he do now that she was gone? The answer was simple, that he would continue with his plans, but right now he was pining for her and the feeling was entirely new to him. He had no idea that it was just going to get worse.

* * *

_I promise they will be a bit longer soon, was a little busy with due coursework! But just four exams and then I am free to write all I wish for you lovely people who take the time to read my fic. Thank you to each and every one of you, and a big special thank you to those who review. I love you all and would love more reviews!_

_Also, the title to this chapter is stolen from a line in a song, in the musical 'The Producers'._


	6. There's No Light

He had spent almost the entire night watching the house from the safety of the shadows across the street. He had considered making his way to the rooftop but doing so would be foolish as, if Evey were to look for him, she would probably search the rooftops. He did not wish to scare her. He had initially returned to the shadow gallery but spending time there alone had been too much, he couldn't stand it.

He did not know how he was going to manage because he _had _to return to the gallery before dawn. It was his home and his domain, where he felt safest and most comfortable, hidden in the darkness. But the darkness that sheltered him, that provided him with safety from the world outside and the most comfort he could ever feel in his own skin, was now suffocating him. The shadow gallery was already silent without her, lacking all feeling of life that he had become accustomed to since her arrival. He'd barely been inside for five minutes before he turned and fled once more.

But dawn came all too soon and he was forced to leave his perch in favour of hiding in the all too empty shadow gallery. He caught no sleep that night but it was no issue for him, his mind was just far too busy to allow him such peace. Instead of sleeping he shed his outfit in favour of a sleeveless doublet and found himself in her room.

All of her things were still there, down to the blanket he had once gotten for her which was now strewn across the end of the bed. She had been using it that morning when she came out to get breakfast, he remembered because he had been struck by how cute she looked snuggled down inside it.

The sight of her had actually caused him to pause for the quickest of moments. She shuffled into the kitchen with this blanket wrapped tight around her small frame, covering most of her face. He could really only see two eyes and a tuft of hair and he smiled beneath the mask. Her dark eyes flickered to him and he quickly turned back to his cooking with a cheerful morning greeting. That image was strong in his mind now as he looked at that blanket.

He picked it up and ran his gloved thumb over the dark fabric. He couldn't help but wonder if she thought the material had been soft against her skin. He allowed the material to slip through his gloved fingers to drop to the bed. A few moments later the blanket was back in his hand but he had removed his glove so he could feel it himself. The material was soft and he smiled weakly, would she miss the blanket? Would she miss him?

Such thoughts would surely torment him so he tried to think of anything other than her, which turned out to be incredibly difficult. Everything reminded him of her and when he went to make himself some breakfast he decided to just go hungry as his automatic instinct was to make eggy in a basket as he always did for her. By the time midday rolled around he was so frustrated that he was ready to destroy everything he had gone to the effort of reclaiming in his beautiful gallery.

He was struggling to come to terms with her betrayal, but not only that, his feelings for her were making this all the more difficult. But his vendetta was the key to calming him down. It was something that he could focus on in between bouts of spying on Evey. He already knew that he would spend most nights watching her, making sure she was all right.

Even though she had hurt him he was still concerned for her well being, and very aware that Creedy's men were still after her. When given the chance he would try to monitor the progress made in her case by the police but when she had been with him she was safe from all threats. He could keep her safe but now she was in the hands of a man who had his own secrets and no means to keep her truly safe. That worried V more than words could describe. So it was the least he could do to watch her from afar and try his best to keep her as safe as he could, from a distance.

But tonight another woman was due a visit from him, and for this visit he brought a rose and a syringe.

Of all of those he blamed for what was done to him, Delia Surridge was both the least and most guilty. It was hard to describe how he felt exactly, but there was no doubting that nothing would have happened to him if it hadn't been for her science. She was the scientist behind it all, and even though she was the only one who seemed remorseful, she was still to blame. She had turned him into the monster that he was. Without these heightened abilities he would have died a long time ago and maybe he would have been better off that way. But, again, without her input he would not be able to put his plan into motion. Either way, it was her turn to meet the fate she deserved.

He had expected some form of barrier when it came to entering her home but instead it was easy. He quickly realised that she had been expecting him, the journal on her bedside table was a clear indication that she did not expect to last the night. It surprised him how well she had accepted her fate but assumed her guilt over what had been done to him had been eating away at her for twenty years. Maybe she was just tired. He could relate.

He crossed her room on silent feet and was careful not to lean any weight on the bed as he pushed the fine syringe into her arm. He tucked the empty instrument back under his cloak and stepped back to secrete himself in the corner. It wouldn't take much for her to wake now.

Within just a short minute she had stirred and he watched as she noticed his presence. "It's you, isn't it?"

He smiled slightly under his mask; she had definitely been expecting him. Of course she would be the one who knew it was him, knew him as more than just the terrorist, straight away at least. Prothero had eventually realised but Delia was far brighter. A car drove past the window and the light filtered in the window, illuminating his form, he knew. His voice was so soft it could barely be called a whisper. "Yes."

"Thank God."

He lowered his head ever so slightly. So, she had been waiting for her death, she was tired of living with her guilt. He didn't know whether he was the hero or the villain in this particular instance. Something told him that he was a little of both.

The silence spread between them as she moved to sit up in the bed. As she adjusted herself he stepped out of the shadows, showing himself fully. She hugged her bed clothes close to her chest and he watched as she explained. Memories of dark times stirred in the recesses of his mind and he had trouble banishing them back to where they came from. Memories of torture, of horrendous pain and crippling loneliness that the cold stone cell brought. A very unwelcome thought joined the myriad of painful memories.. The only good ones he had were with Evey.

"I've not come for what you hoped to do." He advanced on her; he had to keep his mind on the task at hand. "I've come for what you did."

"It's funny, I was given one of your roses today. I wasn't sure you were the terrorist until I saw it. What a strange coincidence that I should be given one today."

He moved and sat himself on the edge of the bed. "There are no coincidences, Delia, only the illusion of coincidence."

Beneath his thick black cloak, his fingers closed around the stem of the rose he had brought with him. He had clipped it just this evening, especially for her. He drew it free and offered it to her. "I have another rose. And this one is for you."

She accepted it as easily as she had accepted her fate, admiring the deep crimson petals. "You're going to kill me now?"

"I killed you ten minutes ago, whilst you slept." He showed her the empty syringe for emphasis.

"Is there any pain."

"No." Her death was different to the others; he did not wish to cause her pain or fear. It had been another complex issue when he faced killing her, but it was done with now.

"Thank you. Is it meaningless to apologise?"

Such a small question knocked all of the air from his lungs and he found it difficult to gather enough breath to speak. As a result, when he spoke, it was so very quiet.

"Never."

"I'm so sorry."

He watched through the eye holes of the grinning mask as death finally claimed her, her hand falling limp. He sat still for a moment trying to digest just what had happened. She had apologised to him and he knew that she had meant it. An apology didn't change anything but to know that she truly was remorseful for what she had done for him made this whole evening even more bittersweet. As he rose from the bed he cast one last glance at the journal. He didn't want to read the details, his own memories were hard enough, and he did not wish to read her thoughts on it. He left it for the police to find, sweeping from her home.

That night he did not return to the house of Gordon Dietrich to keep his vigil, such as he did for many nights after, he returned to his home. There was no joy or light waiting for him and he wallowed in the pain and suffering, locked away in the darkness like the monster he was. The darkness was where he belonged, no matter how suffocating it became. There was no light for somebody such as V.

* * *

_As I mentioned before, exams are coming up. I have four over the next two weeks, slotted around various social events and my best friends 21__st__ so I am a busy bee. I hope to have another chapter out before the end of this weekend (sadly I am breaking my pattern). If not, there shall definitely be another before Sunday the 26__th__. _

_I appreciate the patience and all the love you guys show me!_


	7. Blanket Business

The realm of dreams was a place that could either be his heaven or his own personal hell, even worse than life itself. Since Evey had entered his life, his dreams had become a wonderful place full of images of the beautiful woman that had captured his every attention. So many things about her captivated him that he could hardly even concentrate when she was with him in person. But now that she was gone, his only image of her was that which his mind rendered for him when he was sleeping.

Her hair was one of the most vivid things in his dreams, as well as in real life. Her long curls were of great interest to him. He had spent more than just one evening pondering how silky soft the threads would be if he were to touch them without his gloves on. He could imagine her curls slipping between his fingers and they would be the softest thing he had ever touched. And he wasn't just fascinated by how it felt, he loved how it looked.

He had seen her hair in its normal state, when it was tousled from sleep and also when it was wet, fresh from the shower. Her bed head had been one of the highlights of his mornings. That and her blanket. The blanket he had brought into his own private domain - his bedroom which was usually locked.

He slept with it every night, much as she had done before she left. At first it had been mainly because the fabric had smelled of her, but a few nights on his bed had caused his scent to cover it. Now he slept with it as a reminder of her, both a reminder of what he had lost and a reminder of what good he had briefly had. The material was draped over his own sheets, adding an extra layer that was not always necessary.

Due to the fact he lived underground, the halls of the shadow gallery were cold during the winter months. Actually, it was London, so his home was freezing even at the peak of summer. He didn't suffer from it like Evey had so the blanket, no matter how much he tried to convince himself of the contrary, was not to keep him warm.

He wasn't aware of how late, or how early it was, all he knew was that the blanket was soft as he ran his fingers over the material that rested across his hip. He could do with the sleep, it had been some time since he had caught more than an hour or so of sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes he would see her face. Those beautiful eyes would look right into his and make him want to do nothing other than remove the mask and kiss her. Many a time he had woken in the middle of the night, one part of him far more awake than the rest. It was beginning to seriously disturb his limited sleeping pattern.

The only solution he could really come up with was seeing her in person again. Of all the nights he had watched the Dietrich house, he had yet to actually see any sight of her. He knew that she must still be within but she did not come close to the windows nor did she ever leave the house. She was in hiding and he did not blame her. Not only were the police after her, but also Creedy's men, and he was sure she believed V himself to be angry at her, maybe she even thought he was out to get her? That was far from the truth.

She consumed almost every thought in his mind, even when he was trying to concentrate on his vendetta, his mission, his revenge.

He stared at the darkness that was the ceiling of his bedroom and let out a heavy sigh. His mission was now in a sort of lull, so he could spend more time looking out for Evey. Perhaps he should find out what the police knew about her? He had tabs on several of her pursuers but now he could devote all of his time and attention to her. Yes, because that was truly a healthy idea. Another heavy sigh escaped his lips and marred hands rubbed a marred face before he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep once more.

* * *

_Just a short little filler before everything gets into full swing. Exam in less than twelve hours, wrote this instead of cramming.. Next chapter sometime next week! _

_Theweezil, I had to put the blanket as a thing in this one seeing as you loved it so much ;) You may yet see it again!_


	8. Can You Do This?

His breath came out in pants through the soft material of the ski mask; his adrenaline was running at a ridiculously high level. He could still hardly believe that he was actually going to do this. Part of him really wanted to turn around and go home but the rest of him knew that, no matter what happened, this had to be done. It may kill him in the process but it was the only way he could think of to give her what she wished for. The only way to make sure she wasn't scared anymore.

His anxiety over his plans for her was not the only thing that had his adrenaline levels through the roof. He felt extremely vulnerable, almost naked, in this mask. It did not cover his whole face like the Fawkes mask did, his eyes and the skin around them were clearly visible. Even though it was night and the streets were dark, he could not help but worry somewhat.

He was waiting in the darkness across the road from the Dietrich house but this time he was not there to keep an eye on her. He had heard news of a planned raid on Gordon Dietrich after the television show he had aired. The High Chancellor did not take too kindly to the spoof that was played on him, if anything; V had quite enjoyed his part. It was comical and gave him something to smile about in this dark time in his life. But the choice to do something so out there had put Mr. Dietrich and Evey in danger. If V didn't take her tonight than Creedy's men would and he doubted he would ever see her again.

Dressed in one of the outfits the raiders wore, he would join the raid when it began and hunt down Evey before they could find her. They were only aware of Gordon being in the house so he reckoned his chances of finding her first were high. It was just a case of waiting for the men to arrive, he had already been waiting for over an hour; he had wanted to be early. It was nearly an hour later that they finally arrived.

The men created little sound other than the sound of boots landing on the hard ground. That was his cue. He slipped in through the gate and was planning on going through the back door when he noticed some movement by the window. He secreted himself behind some bushes and watched as none other than Evey Hammond tried to scale her way down from the first floor of the house. She lost her grip and fell to the ground with a thud, causing the man to flinch in sympathy for her pain. But she was not so easily defeated, scrambling to her feet to make a bolt for the gate. It was here that he intercepted her, allowing her to get a few steps out of the gate before grabbing her.

"Gotcha!" He growled and she yelped as he pulled her back into the garden. He wrestled her into the bushes and tied her wrists before he gagged her. He made sure that he was behind her the whole time to make sure she could not see the scarred skin around his eyes. The final step was a black bag over her head.

To complete his scenario he had sourced himself a van which he could throw her into the back of. He could not carry her the whole way back to the gallery, which would just give it all away. He hoisted her struggling form over his shoulder and abruptly dropped her into the back of the van. The doors closed with a heavy thud and he clambered into the front, driving her back to the gallery.

E very abrupt movement, every time he dropped her or was rough with her, he felt a little pain in his chest. It pained him to do this to her. He took a long route around London in case somebody noticed him take her, before he finally pulled up close to the shadow gallery. She had been kicking and screaming the whole way, despite his shouts for her to shut up. She was eerily silent when he took her from the back of the van and carried her into the set up cells. Once the floor was smooth he dropped her to it and dragged her down the corridor. In these halls he could not allow his feelings for her to get the better of him. He had to keep up this image of the captor.

He dragged her into a room which held a table, two chairs and a lamp, absolutely nothing else. He hauled her into the chair and left her there with her hands tied behind her back. He reached under the bag and removed the gag, she could scream and shout all she wanted in these halls although something told him she would not. She was far too scared. Her body trembled under his every touch; terror was positively coming off her in waves.

Her terror was more than understandable; her parents had been taken away in black bags and had never been seen again. And they were not the only people. But she would not meet her death here; no matter how much she may think that she would. He left her alone in the darkness so he could change, ready to face her. But as soon as he reached his dressing room he felt himself falter and he grabbed the back of his seat before his legs gave out under him. He was having another crisis.

Could he honestly beat her, torture her, leave her alone in the crushing loneliness of a cell for days on end, without any human interaction? Could he put her through what he had gone through? The things which had caused him to lose all memory of who he was. It had destroyed him completely, but at least she could not go through the experiments that both made him what he was and turned him into a monster.

He pulled the woollen mask over his head and stared at himself in the mirror. Pale eyes stared back at him; he was avoiding actually focusing on the scars. He was searching himself for answers. A few moments later he returned to removing his current outfit and putting on a new one. He pulled on a suit and sat down to fix a prosthetic mask to his face.

That night began the process of slowly breaking her. He would systematically torture her and leave her alone for long periods of time to break her spirit. He wasn't entirely sure whether she would give in or whether she would accept her death when it came. But that choice was a long way off, and there was a difficult path ahead that both of them had to travel.

* * *

_No fluff here, just a bit of the film and some struggles for poor V. I know I said I wouldn't be posting during my exams but it seems I can't help but write! Thanks a lot to those who have wished me luck in my exams! One more to go :)_


	9. Birth By Fire

No matter how much he willed it to, the lift would not move any faster. He needed to get to the roof before he threw up in the lift; he desperately needed the fresh air to calm his churning stomach. The moment the jittery container ground to a halt he threw the door open and raced towards the open roof door. He nearly tumbled onto the balcony and managed to catch the wall before he fell to his knees. He retched a few times but somehow kept the contents of his stomach. A sob escaped him and he let his forehead rest against the cold, damp stone of the balcony's walls.

His hands were still wet from holding the hose that he used to torture her. There was no point in sugar coating it; he was torturing her in an attempt to break her. But it seemed it was just breaking him more than it was her, doing this continuously was utterly destroying him. At times it was far worse torture than what he had experienced when trapped in Larkhill. Every day he left her there it chipped away another little piece of his heart.

He slowly sank to his knees and rolled over to sit with his back against the wall. He was still wearing the prosthetic disguise and a grey suit, usually he would have gotten out of those things as fast as he could, but he had needed the air desperately. It was either that or throw up on the way up here. But still his stomach had not settled, in fact, the more he thought on what he had done, the more he felt even sicker.

He leant his head back against the wall and sighed deeply, staring up into the night sky. He was beginning to doubt himself, to doubt his strength and his ability to continue with this. Every day it was harder and harder to walk through the halls and down to her cell. He was beginning to think that one day soon he may just accidentally leave her door open and let her free, as much as that would destroy all he had worked for, he just wanted to stop hurting her. He couldn't keep hurting somebody that he loved.

Did he honestly just think that? Well, when he thought about it, it became very clear that he had fallen in love with Evey Hammond. He had not admitted that to himself before, he hadn't allowed it, but now he could no longer avoid it. "I love her.."

Saying the words aloud brought tears to his eyes and he buried his face in his hands, sobs shaking his shoulders. He was in love with her and was doing unthinkable things to hurt her. Something had to give. He lifted his head from his hands when he felt the rain starting to fall. Perfect. Just to make everything better. The rain was actually somewhat therapeutic, the steady rhythm of the water hitting the balcony was soothing and it was cooling as it soaked through his clothes.

If he breathed slowly he could calm down and steel himself for what was to come. What he had to continue doing. He rubbed his face but it didn't have the same effect with this prosthetic thing on his skin. He hated wearing this face as it was the one that Evey would know as her torturer. What would happen when she found out who it really was beneath that face? No mask could hide him from that one.

The dread that flooded his system caused him to wretch and before he knew it he was on his hands and knees, emptying the contents of his stomach on the cold wet stone. He dropped back down into a seated position and sobbed. This was what he got for allowing himself to fall in love.

* * *

The lift that had taken the pair to the roof was the only sound made throughout the entire trip. Since he had helped her to her feet and grabbed his heavy cloak she had not spoken a word to him. And, in truth, he was not surprised, nor did he blame her. He had done unspeakable things to her and now she knew that it was him. She had seen everything that he had seen in himself whilst he tortured her and he had watched the woman he loved completely break down. It tore his heart from his chest. The least he could now do was offer her some fresh air.

He escorted her from the lift to the entrance to the balcony and unfurled the cloak to place it across her shoulders. He went to place it down but she was already moving forwards. It was only then that he really noticed it was raining. It reminded him of the night he was up here, but not just that, of Valerie too. He wondered if she was thinking the same.

He draped the cloak over his arm and stood in the opening to watch her. She was enjoying the rain as it touched her skin, despite the water torture he had put her through. It was exhilarating, no doubt, and soothing. Nature, freedom, the fresh, open world. No longer would he hold her hostage.

"God is in the rain." He heard her whisper and his previous thoughts were confirmed. He lowered his head ever so slightly but his eyes never left her back.

She made her way to the edge of the balcony and lifted her arms, the image suddenly hitting him so hard he lost his breath. Images of fire flickered into his mind and he flinched minutely. But, unlike the other times he had remembered the fire at Larkhill, he felt no memory of pain. Instead it was all about his emergence from the flames. Hers from the rain.

They contrasted each other perfectly. He was born in fire, the killer who knew how to fight and would do anything to complete his mission, by any means, which usually led to violence. She was born in water, the calm to his temper. She would get things done but he knew that she would not be so radical, as he was. She was the soothing agent. The comparison made his heart ache.

He left her there for several long minutes. Once she had lowered her arms she just stood in the rain, her head back and her eyes closed. He was loath to interrupt her moment but he was aware of the increasing chill in the air. So he stepped into the rain and took the cloak from his arm again. He draped it around her shoulders and, for the briefest of moments, held her in a loose embrace as he wrapped the large flaps around her.

"Let's go inside, I have some things for you to dress into." He whispered and led her back down to the Shadow Gallery. There she could dry off, warm up, dress and sleep properly in a bed. And ultimately, decide what she was going to do.

The next few hours were going to be agony for him.

* * *

_So, what kind of a train has wifi but no sockets? Let me tell you a little something about my laptop, it is like five years old, was originally dumped for a newer one and has now been brought back as the new one died spectacularly. Its battery is completely fucked and can only last half an hour before needing plugging in. How am I supposed to write with only half an hour's battery?!_

_Sorry this took a while, I was on a short holiday :P Went to see the Lion King ;) But, back to writing now folks!_


	10. Monster

As predicted, the past few hours had been some of the hardest in what he could recall of his life. Time even moved faster when he was being put through hell in Larkhill. He had escorted Evey back downstairs and to her room, his arm around her the entire way. She hadn't even fought against him, hadn't said a word, just allowed him to do so. She had clothes there and access to a shower, so he had left her to it, and retired into the depths of the Shadow Gallery. He hadn't heard a peep since.

He'd spent those few hours in relative silence, lost in his own mind. He was trying to come to terms with the fact that Evey was going to leave him and he would probably never see her again. By the time she could possibly forgive him, it would be far too late. But he had considered this when he decided to fake her imprisonment, he had taken on that burden to help her lose her fear. Now that the time had come to cross that bridge he could feel his heart slowly breaking.

No matter how hard he tried to suppress his feelings for her, he always failed. It had turned out that every choice he made now, benefitted her, even if in the most miniscule away. Everything he did, he did it for her. He would continue doing so until the day he died.

He approached the Wurlitzer jukebox and sighed softly. Since she had left the first time, he had barely used it. His favourite songs reminded him of her and that just hurt too much. Even though there were more than enough songs to choose from, it just didn't feel right to play music on it when his home no longer had the life that Evey brought to it.

Almost as a final farewell, not just to the woman, but to the jukebox as well, he pressed down a button and rested his hands on either side of the machine as the music reached his ears. The music had barely started when he heard her approach. This was the moment he had been dreading.

"V.. I'm leaving."

"There are 872 songs in here.." He sighed softly. "I've listened to them all, but, I have never danced to any of them."

"Did you hear me?" She sounded annoyed at him so he turned his head to face her briefly.

"Yes."

"I can't stay here."

He lifted his weight from the machine and turned so he was fully facing her. The words that left his lips were barely more than a whisper; he feared if he spoke any louder his emotions may just get the better of him.

"I know.." He sat back on his hands, against the jukebox, and looked away from her. "You won't find any more locks doors here."

"I thought about keeping these, but.. It didn't seem right, knowing that you wrote it."

Valerie's letters caught his attention and he pushed off the Wurlitzer to take them from her. He looked down at the paper in his hand then back to her. "I didn't."

The look on her face was hardly one of belief so he decided to try a different tack. "May I show you something, before you go?"

She nodded her permission and he lowered his head, smiling slightly beneath the mask. At least she was willing to do this. He gestured for her to follow him and lead her through the Shadow Gallery, to a room that was never hidden but often forgotten. Here he grew Scarlet Carsons, beneath the posters of the woman who had inspired him, who had helped make him into the man he was today. As he led her further into the room he could nearly feel her shock emanating from her.

"She was real.." He looked around the room, the shrine. "She's beautiful."

He nodded his head, Valerie truly was beautiful.

"Did you know her?"

"No.." He lowered his head, unable to look at her. "She wrote the letter just before she died. And I delivered it to you, as it had been delivered to me."

"Then it really happened, didn't it?"

"Yes.." If he had imagined that this farewell would be painful, nothing could have prepared him for the combined pain of not only seeing her leave, but also recalling Larkhill and the time he had spent waiting for Valerie's letters. He could remember the crippling pain in his heart when he received the last letter, when he realised that such a wonderful person was dead and he would never get to meet her.

"You were in the cell next to her. That's what this is all about. You're getting back at them for what they did to her. And to you."

"What was done to me created me. It is a basic principle of the universe, every action has an equal and opposing reaction." These people deserved all they got.

"Is that how you see it? Like an equation?"

"What was done to me was monstrous." He snapped, far harsher than he had intended to but he did not apologise.

"And they created a monster."

Those few words sliced through the anger that had suddenly built, striking him right at the very core of his being. A monster, yes, that was what he was. The sooner he realised that, the better. He would never have a proper life; he would never have what he wanted, or who he wanted, even. He knew he should remember that, but his heart refused to do so, instead reminding him of the fact that he had fallen for her, that he was in love. And he cared.

He took a small step closer. "Do you know where you'll go?"

"No. That would have scared me before, but I suppose I should thank you."

Well, at least that worked, he thought wryly. "Oh.."

The next few moments would stay in his memory forever. He had fully expected her to leave, to make sure she had all of her things and just walk away from him. But instead of walking away, she walked closer, right up to him as though she were going to kiss him. His breath caught in his throat as he eagerly awaited her kiss. But none came. They were so close and he could see that her eyes were on the lips of his mask. At that moment he could have pulled the mask off, just so he could feel her lips against his skin. But even as she leant closer to him, no kiss came.

"Thank you.." She whispered. Her breath moved through the hole in the mask, through the mesh that covered it, mingling with his, he could feel its warmth. "Goodbye."

She pulled away from him and walked, just as he had expected her to do first of all. But he could not just let her walk away again, walk out of his life forever.

"Evey." She stopped and turned, much to his relief. "May I ask you for something? If I had once wish, I would wish to see you again, if only once, before the fifth."

"All right."

"Thank you." And this time, she did walk.

He found himself in his dressing room; he was not entirely sure how he had gotten there. All he knew was that Evey was gone and his life had never felt so empty. He slowly reached up to his mask and unfastened the ties. He had no reason to wear it in the house anymore; nobody was here to see his true face. He grasped the sides of the mask and slowly lowered it from his face. He could feel his emotions getting the better of him, he was losing control.

In an outburst of pain, upset, grief and guilt, he let out a shout and slammed his mask into the closest mirror, shattering it completely, the pieces falling from their frame. He covered the few short steps to his chair and dropped into it. His pulse was racing and his breath came out in stressed pants. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He grasped his head in his hands and sobbed, one sob soon turning into many as he lost all control.

She was gone. The woman he loved was gone from his life. He could hold onto the fact that she had agreed to see him once before the fifth but it was little comfort. When she had called him a monster, she had been completely right. He was a monster and nothing awaited him except for a tragic end, no doubt. He promised himself that he would not keep an eye on her like he had done before; she had left him to move on with her life. And he would respect that.

It took a long time for his tears to stop and the sobs to subside. When they finally did so, he felt absolutely exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Now that she was gone, he would be able to concentrate on the last few pieces of his plan. Make sure that everything was prepared in time for the fifth. It was an even bigger day for him now, so long as he was able to see Evey again.

He pushed himself to stand and went to the destroyed mirror. He stared at his reflection in one of the broken shards, stared at the monster which looked back at him. He grabbed the mask and shook it of any possible sharp pieces before securing it over his face once more. He couldn't stand looking at his true face. It was best if he stayed in the shadows, the darkness. _For darkness restores what light cannot repair._

* * *

_That quote was from Joseph Brodsky. I know this chapter was more film text than I would usually like, but it had to be done. We shall soon be leaving the film behind and moving on to the survival part of my story. Thank you to all of you who have been reading this so far, and also thank you to everyone who has been reviewing. I hope you continue to enjoy._


	11. Haunting Melody

Days turned into weeks, the weeks into months and the pain did not go away, not even for a moment. Even when he threw himself into the last preparations for the fifth, Evey was never far from his mind. He was always reminded that, if she didn't turn up that night, it would be the most bitter end to his miserable life that he could possibly imagine. And, if she did turn up, he would have to say goodbye to her again with the full knowledge that he would be leaving her to go to his doom. Either way, the fifth was rapidly becoming a date he would anticipate with fear rather than relief.

For twenty years he had eagerly awaited this day and now he wished that the same things could be achieved by some other means, an option where he survived. He had always told himself that the only place for him when this new world began was, in fact, not in this world at all. He would have no place amongst the free people but – could Evey not help him forge his own place? With her by his side, what could stop him? Ah, but there was the problem, she was not by his side.

This last year had turned both his life, and his plans, completely upside down. All thanks to Evey Hammond. Soon after she had left him he realised that he had fallen in love with her the moment he laid eyes on the young woman. She had captured not only his heart but his every thought, both awake and asleep. It was something he had never imagined would happen. But he was probably better for it.

As always, he wandered through the Shadow Gallery almost on auto pilot, knowing where he was wanted to go but not aware of actually doing so. His mind was on Evey and he soon found himself in her bedroom, or what had once been her bedroom. Now it was just an empty room, even with all those books. He'd spent more time in this room than he cared to admit, going so far as to move a chair to the end of the bed, where he would sit every night.

And it was no exaggeration. Every night he would sit on the chair and stare hard at the bed. He could vividly remember all the times he had checked in on her during the early mornings, trying to gauge when the woman would wake so he could start breakfast. She was truly an angel when she slept, not a single trouble visible on her peaceful features. He could picture her in that bed every night he sat there.

His feet automatically carried him to the chair where he sat and rested on his arms. Tonight was the night. His last night on this planet. And he was now convinced that he would spend it alone. He hung his head and let out a soft sigh. What a life, huh?

He could hear the soft sounds of 'Cry Me a River' playing softly as memories filled his head. He hadn't been able to play that song since she'd left him for good. To quote another song, this one by Hoagy Carmichael named Stardust Melody, 'the melody haunts my reverie'. It was too much for him to listen to. But he had never really thought about the song before. Now that he thought hard about it.. The music was actually playing, not in his head!

He turned his head to look at the door, confusion etching the features hidden beneath the Fawkes mask.

He followed the source of the sound, even though he knew the tune came from the old Wurlitzer, not quite believing that it was actually playing. That she had chosen to play the song. That she had actually come to see him, fulfilling his last request.

Hesitantly, he pushed the door open and searched for her. She was standing in front of the juke box and for a moment he hesitated, still hardly able to believe that she had actually come to see him. He doubted she knew just how much this meant to him, just how important this night was. Just as he was about to speak she beat him to it.

"I missed this song."

He struggled to find his voice, finally managing a weak, "I didn't think you'd come."

"I said I would."

She turned to look at him and he felt that familiar flutter he got each time he laid eyes on her. His eyes followed her as she came closer, but only by a few feet. There was still a great distance between them that he so desperately wished to close. But he stood his ground.

"You look well."

"Thank you."

"May I enquire as to how you have avoided detection?"

"A fake ID works better than a Guy Fawkes mask." The way she said it made him smile, a slight laugh escaping him.

"I must confess that every time I heard a siren, I worried about you." And almost every other waking moment.

"I worried about myself for a while. But then one day I was at a market and a friend, someone I had worked with at the BTN, got in line behind me. I was so nervous that when the cashier asked me for my money, I dropped it. My friend picked it up. And handed it to me. She looked me right in the eyes. Didn't recognise me. I guess whatever you did to me worked better than I'd imagined."

He lowered his head and took a step back, the familiar weight of guilt returning to him. One of the hazards of spending so much time thinking about her was that he also spent a lot of time thinking about what he had done to her. To this very day it still made him sick to his stomach. But tonight was his last night; he would not waste it dwelling on those dark times.

"I have a gift for you, Evey, but before I give it to you I want to ask you something. Would you dance with me?" He dared to look at her.

"Now? On the eve of your revolution?" She looked genuinely surprised.

"A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having."

He saw a smile tug at her lips before she said the words that sent his heart soaring, he could have sworn it would burst out of his chest. "I'd love to."

Words could not describe how excited he was to finally dance with her, even if it was the only time he would ever take her into his arms in such a way. They waited for 'Cry Me a River' to end before he chose another song, pushing the right button. Even though all the buttons had the number five written upon them he knew which played which songs. He offered her his gloved hand and she placed her own small one atop it.

He drew her small frame close to him, his right hand resting on her waist. He could feel her left hand come to his shoulder. The whole hold had his every nerve on edge, literally buzzing with excitement. Slowly the pair moved to the music, slowly rotating on the spot. He was so lost in the sensation of just dancing with her that he barely noticed she was even speaking.

"You've been busy. They're very scared right now. I heard Sutler's going to make a public statement tonight."

"Mm.." His voice was soft. "It's nearly time."

"The masks were ingenious. It was strange to suddenly see your face everywhere."

"'Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.'"

"Twelfth Night."

"Viola." He whispered with a smile.

"I don't understand."

"What?" Her tone of voice had changed but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"How you can be one of the most important things that's ever happened to me, yet I know almost nothing about you. I don't know where you were born, who your parents were, if you have any brothers or sisters. I don't even know.. What you really look like."

Her hands rose to his mask, gently pushing back the hairs of the wig to touch the sides of the mask. He caught her hands, his own gently wrapped around her wrists. There was no way he could let her see his face.

"Evey, please." He could not answer any of her questions, but how do you tell somebody that you cannot because the answers escape you also. "There is a face beneath this mask, but it's not me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it, or the bones beneath them."

He had taken both hands in his and lowered them to his chest. But he didn't let go of them. For a moment she looked as though she might have a complaint against his request but in the end he felt relieved. "I understand."

"Thank you." He sadly released her hands. "There's not much time. There is something I must give you."

She gave a small nod of her head when he pulled away and he left her there to go and retrieve his cape and hat. He would dress in the full outfit for this occasion, his final battle and his goodbye to the woman he loved.

She was still waiting by the Wurlitzer when he returned, listening to another song but he was not paying attention to it. All he could focus on was her. The way she looked, how beautiful she was. He wanted to keep that image in his mind for as long as possible. Soon it would all go dark for good.


	12. Darkness

He led her through the underground tunnels that he had spent the better part of ten years repairing, his hand lightly hovering over the small of her back. He could feel the warmth of her body through his thick glove, warming his own body. Just having her so close to him was enough to cause all sorts of reactions, but it was hard for them to permeate through the dread that had gathered in the pit of his stomach.

Together they rounded the corner, the platform, tracks and train which sat upon them all came into view. He lowered his hand as he allowed her a moment to take it all in.

"The underground. I thought they closed this all down."

"They did." He admitted softly. "It took nearly ten years to clear the tracks, lay a bit of my own."

It was only really in the last year or so that he had found himself with rather a small amount to actually do. He had always been quite busy with sourcing supplies, creating his explosives, reconnaissance work and even repairing the tracks. But, come time to actually put the plan in motion, there had been a surprising amount of just waiting around.

She took a few steps ahead of him and he stayed put, but only for a moment. He walked up to her side and rested his hand on her back again, to escort her to the train. "Let me show you."

He stopped at the entrance to the train, allowing her to step in and explore what he had been planning. The train was absolutely filled with explosives and the finest British fertiliser. He watched as she took in everything on the train then finally looked out of the front of the train. Realisation dawned on her features.

"These tracks lead to Parliament?"

"Yes.." He whispered. She had finally figured out how he was going to complete his plan.

"Then it's really going to happen, isn't it?" She turned to look at him.

"It will if you want it to."

"What?" She looked so shocked and he fought the urge to smile. He had caught her off guard.

"This is my gift to you, Evey. Everything that I have; my home, my books, the gallery, this train. I'm leaving to you, to do with what you will."

She looked slightly annoyed. "Is this another trick, V?"

"No, no more tricks. No more lies. Only truth. And the truth is, you made me understand that I was wrong.. That the choice to pull this lever.. Is not mine to make."

"Why?"

"Because, this world, the world that I am a part of and that I helped shape, will end tonight. And tomorrow, a different world will begin, that different people will shape. This choice belongs to them." _To you, _he added in his head.

He couldn't stand actually saying goodbye to her, so, without another word, he stepped off the train and strode off down the platform to meet his doom. Things would be so much easier if he could just walk away, if she would just allow him to walk off, but he somehow doubted that this goodbye would be far from easy, even as he tried his first attempt at fleeing.

"Where are you going?"

He stopped at the sound of her voice calling after him and considered just walking away from her. But he knew that he couldn't. He would never be able to just ignore Evey Hammond.

"The time has come to meet my Maker and to repay him in kind for all that he has done." He nodded his head and turned in his second attempt to flee, only to be foiled once again when she came chasing after him.

"Please, you don't have to do this!" He turned again to face her. "You could let it go, we could leave here together."

She was pleading with him and it very nearly broke his heart. Her hands briefly touched his arms before dropping back to her sides. For a long time he just looked at her.

"You were right about what I am. I've no tree waiting for me." He muttered softly, lowering his head.

"All I want, all I deserve," He quickly corrected, "Is at the end of that tunnel."

"That's not true."

He knew it was coming before she even moved, and although his mind told him to race from the intimate moment, his heart kept him rooted right to the spot. He watched, in almost slow motion, as her hands came up to touch the sides of his mask and her lips came ever closer. They pressed to his lips in the sweetest kiss he could ever imagine. His hands moved to her waist, gently resting on her as the contact drew out. Slowly she drew back and he found that he had yet to actually take a breath. Her hands slid down his arms until he finally took them in his own. He took a deep breath, making his final decision.

"I can't." He fled for the final time, jumping down onto the tracks and hurrying away from her. He could concentrate on taking down Sutler and Creedy if he just kept moving. He was sure of it.

Every time he moved, every breath he took and every slight movement of his body made it that harder to actually move. He was dying. There was no escaping that fact, but he refused to die alone amongst the corpses of his victims. Not when Evey had offered him everything he could have ever wanted; a future, a relationship, her love. He may have turned her down but he just had to see her one last time, if only to have one last glimpse before the darkness closed in.

With a deep, steadying breath he reached under his doublet and unbuckled the chest plate, a gasp of pain escaping when he pulled the damaged metal free and dropped it to the ground. Blood glittered on the pitted surface out of the corner of his eye, a visual reminder of the bullets which riddled his body. Like he needed another reminder of the pain he was in.

He straightened his back but immediately regretted doing so, stumbling towards the tunnel that would lead him back to Evey and falling quite heavily against the tiled wall. He took a moment to gather his energy. Even with his high threshold for pain, this was near unbearable. Each step he took became harder and harder, not only that, but the path ahead seemed far longer than it had been when he first walked it.

When he reached end of the wall he managed to push himself off, not noticing the blood smear he had left behind him.

He struggled his way down tunnel after tunnel, determined to get back to Evey through this winding maze. Finally, he managed to stumble back onto the platform, his hat falling from his head as he gripped onto the wall with a grunt of pain. Lifting his head, he noticed that she was still beside the bench, and started the stumble towards her.

"V!" She ran to him and just as her arms reached out to him, he collapsed.

He wasn't able to hold up his own weight anymore, his legs refused to move. His body was shutting down. He just about managed to settle himself more comfortably in his arms when she started applying pressure to his right shoulder. "We have to stop your bleeding!"

"Oh, please don't." He touched her hand for a moment when he noticed the tears she was about to shed. "I'm finished. I'm glad of it."

He lay back in her arms, so very comfortable despite the bullets that riddled his body. It was like he couldn't feel the pain anymore, now that he was with her. She took it all away, all the pain and suffering he had ever gone through. He ignored the logical part of his brain that told him the pain was disappearing because he was losing his senses, slowly but surely.

"Don't say that." He could hear that fierceness in her tone but when he opened his eyes he saw no evidence of it on her face. He could see her trying to judge all of the wounds he had sustained but it was a hopeless task. His black doublet restricted the view.

"I told you only truth.. For 20 years I sought only this day. Nothing else existed." His breathing became laboured; it was getting harder and harder to breathe. "Until I saw you. And everything changed."

He took a deep breath. The tears in her eyes were making this so much harder, to actually see the pain she felt over him dying. "I fell in love with you, Evey. Like I no longer believed I could."

"I don't want you to die."

He suddenly realised that he didn't want to die. He was suddenly filled with a massive sense of regret; he should have taken her up on her offer. Why had he gone to his death? He could have had a life with her. That regret was so strong but it suddenly fled from him as darkness crept in. At first it blurred the edges of his vision, slowly obscuring his view of the love of his life. In the end he closed his eyes and leant back into the comfort of her arms.

"That's the most beautiful thing you could have ever given me." His lips weren't working properly, the words coming out in a slur. The last thing he heard was Evey shouting his name..

Then everything went black.

* * *

_Sorry it has taken me so long to update! We have had one hell of a time at home and I don't know how it is going to go in the near future. My sister has to go to hospital with a cyst in her brain so updates will be slower than I would like but I would never abandon this story. I love it far too much and am even thinking of trying another story when I finish this one._

_Thank you all for your patience, and welcome to all the new readers!_


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